Dragged From The Light
by ClearingSky
Summary: A shaken Mike Stoker has to find a way to reassure his troubled captain.


**Dragged From the Light**

by ClearingSky

A quickly done-up ficlet. Posted Dec 13 2019. May everyone have a Mike Stoker in their darkest Captain Stanley hour. Happy Holidays and Happy New Year! By Ginger713 request. _For Cap G_.

* * *

He dropped heavily into the chair. Hunched with shoulders down, eyes closed, he sat motionless; a figure frozen in time, his breathing rendering him a living statue. The smoke reeked from his turnouts as well as the sweat that had since dried.

And the spectre that pierced his memory.

_Blackblackblackblackblackblackblack_

_TRAPPED!_

_arms flailing hitting wall_

_burning burning_

_his lungs hs lnnnnngggs_

A hiss, suddenly, a sharp intake of breath that uncurled his body and flung his eyes wide open, hands out to steady himself. A piteous moan. Eyes darting, trying to parcel out where he was…

Awareness. Relief. Calm.

He sat up a little straighter, allowing the stiffness some moments to complain. But it was okay, it was okay. A breath out. A deep deep deep breath in - cool air, cool glorious beautiful air expanding his chest. _My God_, he could breathe in forever… sharp pain! He winced, a hand flying to his ribs. He twisted a bit to relieve it, took in a test breath. He was fine.

Sagging, he leaned forward, elbows on his knees and let his body feel the gravity.

~!~

Engineer Mike Stoker peeked an eye open in the darkened dorm to Chet's snoring and an abnormal amount of light. Years of experience sleeping at Station 51 alerted him to the fact that someone had left the kitchen light on. Heaving a heavy sigh of annoyance, he blinked himself completely awake, flung the covers aside and donned his boots and bunker pants. Hiking up the straps, he glanced up at the clock. The blue neon lights from next door illuminated the dorm just enough for him to make out the time - 3:37. _Crying out loud, we just got to sleep an hour ago…_ Mike peered out the door window – sure enough, the light was on in the kitchen. _Dammit, Gage_… he surmised. _Cap's gonna blow a gasket if you wake him up._ Trudging quietly, Stoker went through the swinging door, being careful to guide it closed and wound his way behind the rigs to the kitchen. A stern comment about giving some thought to the Engine crew's late-night run came to mind as he made to push the door open.

But he stopped short at seeing through the kitchen window the silent form sitting hunched at the table.

Captain Stanley combed a hand through his unkempt hair as he slowly sat up, wearily planted his hands on his knees and heaved himself up with obvious effort. Slow and lumbering, his heavy boots clumped noisily on the floor, he nearly waddled like an old man to the coffee urn to make himself a cup.

Stoker watched him, brows furrowing in concern. They'd been back almost two hours and he still hadn't taken off his bunker coat. Sleepiness pulled at him ever so gently. Mike yawned and rubbed his face. _Shift ends in four hours. He'll be okay; just needs to unwind. I need sleep_…. And Stoker left his captain to his coffee.

_**Four days later**_

_Blackblackblackblackblackblackblack_

_arms flailing hitting wall_

_TRAPPED!_

_burning burning burning burning burning burning_

_crushingchest crushing crushing crushing_

_grappling grappling grappling_

_dragging dragging_

_down down hard down down down down_

Hunched with shoulders down, eyes staring, he sat motionless; a figure frozen in time, his breathing rendering him a living statue. The smoke reeked from his turnouts as well as the sweat that had since dried.

And the phantom that continued to invade his memory.

~!~

Engineer Mike Stoker opened his eyes in the darkened dorm to Chet's snoring and an abnormal amount of light. The kitchen light was on, again. He blinked himself completely awake and peered over to the bunk across from him. In the blue neon light from next door, he could see the bunk was empty. Concerned, he moved the covers aside and donned his boots and bunker pants. Hiking up the straps, he glanced up at the clock - 1:42. They'd been back a couple hours, now. Mike peered out the door window – sure enough, the light was on in the kitchen. Trudging quietly, Stoker went through the swinging door, being careful to guide it closed and wound his way behind the rigs to the kitchen. He peered in before pushing the door open.

Captain Stanley was standing at the counter in his bunker pants and blue uniform jacket, absently stirring something. Stoker hesitated for a moment, then gently pushed the door open. "Cap?"

An eyebrow spiking, Stanley turned, somewhat startled, to his engineer. "I'm sorry, Mike," his voice rasped and was heavy with fatigue. "I wake you?"

_Yes_. "No. Saw the light was on. Just thought I'd see if someone was actually in here or if it'd been left on."

Cap had already turned back to whatever it was he'd been stirring. A silent nod.

Sensing that Cap wasn't in the mood for company, Mike moved to the door. "'Night, Cap."

"Yeah." Still stirring. Still standing there, a solitary figure swallowed by the emptiness of the room. By its expanse. By the light. A contrasting figure to the welcoming Christmas tree in the corner, a symbol of joy and the hope of life amid cold and desolation.

_**Two days later**_

Stoker opened his eyes in the darkened dorm to Gage's snoring and an abnormal amount of light. The kitchen light was on, again. Coming fully awake, he peered over to see the empty bunk across from him. Apprehensive, he flung the covers aside and donned his boots and bunker pants. Hiking up the straps, he glanced up at the clock - 2:54. They'd been back since just about midnight. Mike peered out the door window and saw the kitchen light on. Trudging quietly, Stoker went through the swinging door, being careful to guide it closed. He noticed Cap's turnout coat hanging on the Engine's officer-side mirror. He wound his way behind the rigs to the kitchen and peered in before memory sliced through his mind…..

_Grappling grappling holding fighting_

_Lungs burning burning burning_

_Scratching flailing flailing_

_TRAPPED!_

_Pushing tripping_

_Down down down_

It'd been a couple of weeks, but…still….. _All these late night fires last few shifts must really be wearing on him_. Stoker quietly entered the kitchen, but there was no sign of Captain Stanley. The coffee urn and a cup was on the counter, however. Mike checked the coffee urn and found it empty. Taking initiative, he grabbed the can of grounds and began scooping out enough to make several cups.

The outside kitchen door opened and Captain Stanley walked in and stopped dead at the sight of Stoker. The two men simply looked at each other for a few moments before Captain Stanley pulled his dark blue duty jacket tighter around him from the cold and closed the door shut behind him. "Mike."

"Cap," Stoker replied, watching him.

Stanley's shoulders sagged as he made his way toward the table. "Did I wake you up?"

"The light was on." Mike continued spooning coffee grounds, filled the urn and set the coffee. His concern rose exponentially as the cigarette smoke surrounding his captain wafted over to him.

"'m sorry," Cap muttered, a hand rubbing his eyes, another leaning on a chair backrest, his posture hunched.

Stoker crossed his arms and leaned against the counter. "Not a problem, Cap. It's been bothering me, too."

Widened eyes took him in for several moments before dropping underneath furrowed brows. "Son of a bitch," Stanley mumbled. "I'm sorry, Mike. For getting you into that mess."

"Bullshit, Cap."

Captain Stanley set a startled expression on his engineer. "Excuse me?"

"It's not your fault, Cap. It's not like we almost died on purpose."

Stanley mentally reeled for a moment. "Well….no. But you're all still my responsibility."

"I know. But we're big boys. We know what we're getting into."

Stanley wearily sat down. "Yeah. But it still falls on _me_ to ensure you guys come _back_ to the barn in one piece. I should've made sure extra tanks would be available. I screwed up, Mike."

"We came back."

"Barely," Stanley spat.

The images, the feelings rushed back to Stoker and he re-lived five minutes that stretched into a thousand lifetimes…

_The blackness. The blackness. The blackness was so dark, so dark. And that corridor so so narrow. So narrow. He'd lost his sense of direction. His air was gone. And he couldn't find his way out. Black black so black so dark closing in, claustrophobic, suffocating him_

_AIR!_

_Suffocating, suffocating, inhaling inhaling and nothing's happening. My God… GOD! _

_I can't breathe, I can't breathe…. Please God I can't breathe_

_Training ingrained the instinct not to tear off the mask. _

_But he couldn't find his way out of the black. He kept bumping into walls; the guide rope had disappeared. Then a body, a body, an arm, a hand pulling, pulling NO! THAT'S THE WRONG WAY! They grappled, grappled, fought with each other, but they too started to panic. Panic and flail, but they pulled pulled pulled._

_He sucked and sucked and NOTHING WAS HAPPENING I CAN'T BREATHE!_

_The blackness fogged out to dark gray then gray then a full-fledged, mindless panic descended into brute and savage survivalism as the burning in his lungs signaled death. Mike pushed off of Cap, feeling Cap's hand slide off his arm, and he bolted toward the light, the light, the exit stairs, ripping off his mask to fill his lungs with rancid, hot air ANYTHING and slid, ran down the stairs leaving his captain, _my God, I left him! in the disorienting, swallowing dark, my God, my God he dragged me to the exit and I left him in there… I left him_…._

_The scattered memories of the radio chatter screamed "May day! May day!" … "Captain 51s is down, repeat, Captain down!" … Roy, Johnny, "Rampart, this is Squad 51 … tumbled down two flights of stairs. He is currently unconscious … Possible hypoxia…". _

Mike grabbed the open chair adjacent to Captain Stanley, his expression stern though his eyes belied his fear and he swallowed hard. "_I_ was the one who left you in there, Cap." He held Stanley's eyes for a few moments before he made to move away.

Stanley grabbed his arm and held him fast. "Mike…"

Emotions bolted to the surface; overwhelming him with feelings Mike was unaware he'd had. Guilt and regret weighed him back down onto the chair. He brought his hand up to cover his mouth while tears rolled down his face and he fought to control the sobbing breathing that seemed to ambush him as Cap's hand still held onto him.

"I screwed up, Mike. This all falls on me, whether you guys come back to the barn or not. It's my job to make sure you guys are taken care of. I didn't do that." Cap stood and squeezed Mike's shoulder as he moved past him to get the coffee.

Mike sniffed, his breathing mostly under control. "I don't blame you, Cap," Stoker tried to ease his captain's conscience.

"I know. And I appreciate that, Mike. But it's still my responsibility. It was my command decisions that got you into that predicament. That can't happen again and I've got to go through what I need to change," Stanley explained as he poured them both a cup of coffee.

Mike wiped his face. "Sleeping in the dorm is one."

Stanley placed Mike's coffee in front of him and stared at him as he returned to his chair. "You noticed, huh?"

"Figured you were winding down after the late-night runs. But then, I kept finding you in here at all hours of the night. Besides, I realized it was still bothering me. Odds are it was still bothering you too."

Cap Stanley shook his head. "Oh, no. I'm not going back in there."

"Ever again?"

Stanley looked at the kitchen door, as if seeing the dorm with x-ray vision. "I can't."

"What about when you're home?"

"I can sleep at home fine. It's…..in _there_," Stanley shuddered and jabbed a finger toward the dorm.

"You can't avoid the dorm forever, Cap."

Stanley breathed out. "I know. I just…need some time."

But the nervous expression on Cap's face told Mike that a turtle could circumnavigate the world before Cap would be ready to sleep in the dorm again. The darkened room, with all of them there, was too close to the circumstances that nearly killed them both.

Stanley's agitation faded from his features. "Mike, you know you can come talk to me. Anytime. My door's always open; you know that. It was a helluva thing to go through and I suspect it'll be rattling around in our heads for awhile. Or if you'd rather talk to the department chaplain. Either way, if you need to get anything about this off your chest, I'm here."

"What about you, Cap? You can't sleep in here forever."

"Let me worry about me, okay, babe?"

Mike watched Stanley push off the table and stand up. He padded his jacket pocket. "Gonna grab another smoke. Why don't you go back to bed? I'll clean up here." Stanley headed outside through the kitchen door. _'Let me worry about me' my ass_… Stoker looked around the room in thought – and an idea struck him.

Minutes later, Mike walked into the kitchen from the apparatus bay as Captain Stanley walked in from the outside door. Stoker waited for Cap to lock the door before motioning him to follow. Stanley pointed to the sink, indicating he was going to clean up.

"Already done, Cap." And he nodded his head toward the dorm.

Cap threw him a wide-eyed expression. Mike stepped over to his captain and grabbed the lapel of his jacket. Cap threw his hands up, despite the steps he had already involuntarily taken. "Oh, no…"

"C'mon. I fixed it."

Stanley stopped. "You _fixed_ it? What the devil does that mean?"

"C'mon," Mike reiterated, gently pulling again. Reluctantly, Stanley allowed his engineer to tug him toward the apparatus bay. The orange light that filtered in gave them enough light to navigate by as their eyes adjusted to night vision. They reached the door to the dorm and Stanley took a few steps back, hands raised again. "Mike, no, I can't—"

"Cap. Cap," Mike whispered encouragingly in a firm tone. Stoker patiently waited for his captain to calm down before taking him by the arm back to the door. Mike opened the door and nudged his disinclined captain to the threshold. Hanging from the brick divider and surrounding Stanley's bunk were the lit Christmas tree lights. Despite his distress, Stanley chuckled to himself at the ingeniousness, the audacity and…well…. Mike gave a gentle shove to his captain that finally got him into the darkened dorm. Cap grabbed Mike by the back of the neck and lightly shook him.

"G'night, Cap," Mike whispered. He shucked off his bunker gear and hopped into his bunk as he watched Stanley stare at his own bunk for a minute before doffing his jacket and bunker gear and gingerly lay down. After a few tosses and turns, Cap seemed to finally feel comfortable and he seemed to slip off to sleep.

Satisfied, Mike found his own comfortable position and settled in. Then his eyes flew open.

_Dammit. The kitchen light… _

* * *

_fin _

Some elements of this story were taken from a real incident.


End file.
